A Magical Moral
by Sarstarel
Summary: Draco reverts to his former nasty self after the war, and it's going to take some magic and a certain redhead to straighten him out. Post-DH, disregards the epilogue. Rated M for language. First story, be kind!


I don't own Harry Potter or Beauty and the Beast...sad day.

"Toby, answer the bloody door."

"Yes, Master." The house elf moved toward the door being careful to avoid stepping within kicking distance of Draco's boots. Lately, Draco had been in an especially hideous mood and had been taking it out on Toby.

Toby struggled to open the large oak door, and found himself facing an old woman in tattered rags, hunched over and fighting to stay upright in the bitter cold.

The crone looked at Toby and tried to smile. "Will you please ask your Master if I may stay the night?"

Toby peered at the eavesdropping Draco, who scowled and shook his head violently.

Toby inwardly sighed and smiled at the woman. "Sorry madam, but the Master isn't…isn't feeling up to entertaining."

The old woman looked at Toby in disbelief. "But it's freezing out here! I'll surely die if I don't get shelter. Please, oh please help me!"

Draco continued to shake his head, and motioned for Toby to close the door. Toby gazed sadly at the now weeping woman one more time, then did as his Master bid him.

Draco sat down in his favorite arm chair, enjoying the cozy warmth of the blazing fire. Draco was now free to relax in the side parlor, enjoying every comfort a Malfoy could buy. And that was a lot of comfort.

Draco grinned at Toby. "The audacity of some people! If she needs a place to stay, there are several B&B's not too far from Malfoy Manor, and if she'd just-"

Draco was cut off as light suddenly filled the entrance hall and burst into the side parlor. A woman with blazing red hair bathed in the light drifted down from the ceiling, and she didn't look pleased. In fact, she looked downright pissed.

"Draco Malfoy! You have been weighed, you have been measured and you have been found wanting."

Draco looked up at the figure with nothing less than intense shock.

"Bloody hell, is that you Weasley?"

Ginerva Weasley, for it was indeed her, gazed down at Draco in disgust. She had been right in the middle of her pitch, and he wasn't even pleading yet. Well, she thought smugly, that would soon change.

"Yes, Malfoy. It is I, and I come bearing nothing less than ill tidings."

Draco furrowed his brow, trying to remember everything he could about Weasley and her job. Well, since the War the Ministry of Magic had become more concerned with keeping ex-Death Eaters on the up and up. So they sent what they called the "Magical Order for the Protection of Morality" called M.O.P. Definitely a Weasley joke, since Muggles were said to use primitive tools called "mops" to get rid of dirt. Anyway, their jobs were very secretive, so Draco didn't have a clear idea of what was going to happen to him…except this sounded like one of those Muggle fairytales. Didn't it? But which one…

"Malfoy, you were willing to let an old woman die without extending help that was clearly within your power to bestow, which violates Section 3, subsection 41 of the Ministry-approved Moral Compact which states, "Any witch or wizard of varying magical capabilities is obligated to help any witch or wizard of varying magical capabilities, or person of ambiguous background (extended to and including non-magical beings frequently referred to as Muggles, and/or creatures of half-human origins) if it is in their capacity to do so in accordance with the new moral standards enforced upon the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

After Ginny finished rattling her list off, she looked down at Draco with a quirked eyebrow. "Do you understand this violation?"

Draco had, unfortunately, finally understood how deeply in trouble he was. Not only did he see the wicked glee in Weasley's eyes that could NEVER mean anything helpful for a Malfoy, but he had remembered the Muggle fairytale. It was Beauty and the fucking Beast and, unless he missed his guess, Draco was about to be turned into a monster.

Draco swallowed noisily and sat up in his chair. "Weasley, cut to the chase. What are you going to do to me?"

Ginny let an evil smile spread across her face. "Why, give you a blast from your past. Tell me, Malfoy. How do you feel about ferrets?"


End file.
